Carolyn's Decision
by irregular-pioneer
Summary: Carolyn x Herc/Carolyn x Douglas. Before she and Herc are scheduled to marry, Carolyn reassesses her situation.


Carolyn cracked open her heavy-lidded eyes with a suppressed stretch, chuckling quietly as Herc's soft snores continued to fill the small space between them. She rolled over, the springs of the mattress sounding under her weight as she moved to greet him good morning. Her eyes studied over his familiar face as her finger traced over her elaborate engagement ring, a sudden twitch of uncharacteristic nervousness resounding in her chest.

She took a deep breath, the feeling easing itself almost instantaneously as she silently outweighed his pros and cons. She hummed to herself, placing a weathered yet graceful hand against her fiance's arm. She paused in contemplation just as she was leaning forward to press a good morning kiss against his cheek. '_My God_," she thought, '_He's Douglas Richardson._'

She quietly eased back into her spot on the bed, mortified by her sudden realization. A morning-soaked and syrupy voice croaked out from the spot next to her and she coaxed him back to sleep with a dismissive wave of her hand. She sighed, sinking into her pillow, a thousand new realizations about the first officer presenting themselves as small snores began singing out throughout the dark room once more. Puzzle pieces clicked themselves into place once she could hear her own thoughts above the ridiculously named pilot in the space next to her. Suddenly, the obscurity of Douglas' actions of late fell into place and a strange feeling— significantly different from that of pre-wedding jitters— settled in the pit of her stomach: she's been with the wrong man for the past few years.

Warm sunlight washed over the small breakfast table. As Herc poked at his hastily thrown together fruit salad, Carolyn proudly devoured her side of bacon, voicing her satisfaction with the pork quite loudly. She collected the dishes, dumping edible leftovers into the dog's bowl on her small walk over to the kitchen sink. "Hercules, you know that damned wedding thing that you're always going on about?"

"I think I know the one, yes."

"Ah, excellent. Well, I'm afraid that you're going to have to find a new bride, or you and your friends can eat an entire wedding cake all by yourselves. I don't really care what you do at this point, as long as I don't have to be involved in it."

"Are you serious? Or is this your attempt at some strange practical joke?"

"Serious as a heart attack. I'm sorry, would you have preferred me not having warned you and instead leaving you at the altar?"

Herc narrowed his eyes and cocked his head in confusion. "No, the warning was a nice sentiment. Muchly appreciated. Just a small hitch here, though, Carolyn. Where exactly am I supposed to stay while you're working out your little pre-wedding anxieties?"

"Ah, ta ta ta. This is not some 'hysterical bride' thing, this is an 'I am not getting married to you' thing. And to answer the general theme of your question: you're a relatively wealthy man, I'm sure that renting a motel room wouldn't be too out of your reach."

He nodded, lifting himself from his seat in a moderate state of befuddlement. "Right, I'll get out of your hair then. Call me when you want to talk about whatever this is," he said, gesturing between the two of them before slipping through the door of the bedroom to pack a bag.

He and his green sportscar were out of sight in less than fifteen minutes.

Eventually, a lengthy conversation took place and each fault of their relationship was taken out and analyzed. Ultimately, he gave her a choice: she would either show up to the church on Saturday or she wouldn't. Arthur went in her place.

Not more than a few hours later, her son came home with the company of MJN's first officer. "You take your eyes off the kid for a second and he dives head-first into a bottle of peach Schapps. Good call on the open bar, by the way, Carolyn. Sure-fire way to get all the bridesmaids drunk enough to sleep with a 57 year-old first officer."

Carolyn hummed with amusement, plucking the reading glasses off of her face before she closed her book and patted Arthur gently on the back with a small reminder to drink plenty of water to avoid an unpleasant morning.

After an hour of fending off a tired and ravenous drunk Arthur— coming out of the episode with minimal bite barks— a collective sigh cleared the room as he stumbled back into his bedroom. "God bless that idiot child," Carolyn laughed, snatching a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen, "He didn't leave any open wounds, now, did he?"

"Nothing a minor surgery can't fix," Douglas replied, following her into the adjoining living room and flopping onto the white couch. "I have to say, I'm impressed."

"What?" Carolyn asked, pouring herself a comically full glass of wine before offering some to her companion. He declined while she shrugged.

"I may have had a few wives, but, none of them have ever cancelled the wedding or stood me up instead of realizing that I was a rat bastard a few years down the line. I have to say, it probably saved Herc the Berk quite a bit of trouble down the line."

She nodded with slight amusement, "Why, thank you,"she took the comment with a sip of red wine and a small, involuntary sigh.

He hummed, replying with a strangely smug "you're welcome." Before an awkward silence could fill the room, Douglas momentarily cleared his throat of sarcastic comments and smug self-congratulatory statements. "Why?" he asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you leave him? Although he's no Douglas Richardson, I thought he was a fine match for you. Very… cute."

Carolyn chuckled, "Cute? Makes it sound like you're in love with him"

He shook his head, "No, not cute. Not cute at all. Actually, since I found out that you two were dating, he's seemed rather revolting."

"I could tell, you jealous, jealous man."

"Jealous? Me? Never. Just looking out for your best interest."

She gave him a good-humoured smile and took another sip out of her wine glass. "To answer your original question as to why I left that ridiculous man: it may have been because," she paused to take a humorously long drink from her glass, wine beginning to drip down her chin. After a couple seconds of silence, she sighed before continuing, "he wasn't you."

He grinned. "He wasn't me," he repeated, his voice especially syrupy. "Did humble Carolyn fall for a mighty Sky God?" he laughed, clapping a hand against her shoulder in a strangely loving gesture.

"Call it what you want to call it, but, it is certainly not akin to me falling in love with you."

"Oh, absolutely. I wouldn't make the mistake of assuming that you've fallen in love with anyone," he chuckled, running his hand between her shoulder blades. "But, if you decide that this _is_ akin to 'love', or whatever you feel instead of that— possibly similar to the feeling when you strangle a newborn kitten," he softened his grin, "it is possible that the feeling may be mutual. I may have actually gotten Arthur drunk just so that I would have to take him home."

They both laughed. "Of course you're in love with me. And, you've done a piss-poor job at hiding it," Carolyn answered, slowly falling onto Douglas' chest, not minding the flash of hot embarrassment that momentarily passed over her as Douglas wrapped his arm around her. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll have your head on a platter."


End file.
